


We're Family

by ladyheroines



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 11:52:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyheroines/pseuds/ladyheroines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which it is painfully obvious to the Gotham PD just how much the Batkids (and their dad) care about each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Family

They had been on their normal patrol route when they heard the sounds of fighting. Curious, they had swung down to find two police officers, apparently having been feeling brazen, now cornered by what looked to be an entire gang, consisting of over two dozen people. One of the officers was down, the other desperately sending out a message for help to the police station.

Batman and Robin had interfered, and while the fight had been a little drawn out, it was not a hard one. However, almost every member of the group seemed to be carrying a knife, and Bruce almost got stabbed twice. The fight ended just seconds before back up arrived, and while the police officers began to detain all the members of the gang, Bruce found himself looking around a little wildly for Robin, having lost track of him during the fight. When he finally did locate him, standing near the edge of the alley and panting, he almost panicked at how much red was all over his son before he remembered that his uniform was in fact supposed to look like that. Bruce kicks himself mentally, moving to inspect the child.

“Are you hurt, Robin?” he asks, moving to his side and putting a hand on his shoulder. He gently began to steer him away, out of the dead end street so they can disappear quietly as police officers bustle around them, one of them supporting the officer who had gone down first, who was clutching an ice pack to his head.

“Few bruises, perfectly fine,” Dick says, cheerfully, ignoring the few looks they get as they make their way to the exit, where Jim Gordon stands, watching them with a twinkle in his eye.

“Then now would be a good time to head home,” Bruce says, keeping his voice quiet as they move past Jim, but noticing the unmistakable twitch of Jim’s mustache. Dick looks a little crestfallen, suddenly, pouting a little. It takes Bruce the few moments they need in order to pass Gordon to remember why.

The corner of his own mouth twitches in what could hint at a smile. “Like it or not, you’re going to have to study for that test eventually. And you know the rules,” he says, squeezing his son’s shoulder before he lets go, reaching for his grapple. Robin does the same.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep my grades up or no cape,” Dick sulks, firing his grapple into the night. Behind them, Bruce hears Jim Gordon stifle a snort as he fires his own grapple off in the same direction as Dick’s did.

“Behave yourself,” Bruce says, but his tone is nothing but fond.

 

* * *

 

Tim isn’t worrying. He is not. He just happens to have heard the sounds of Batgirl’s fight over the comm that she had been talking on when she got jumped. And there aren’t many people brave enough to jump a Bat unprovoked.

Okay, so he is worried a little. Just before Steph remembered her comm was on, he heard her mutter something to the effect of, “That’s going to sting like a bitch.” to herself. Okay, so maybe not something to the effect of. Maybe those were her exact words.

But he had spotted her during his patrol only a few blocks back, so it really was not that much trouble to double back and check. Just in case.

When he arrived, there were already three police cars and six officers on the scene, the Detective Nic Gage observing as they load two men into the back of one of the cars. Whoever it was, they do not call detectives out for small scuffles, so whoever is being pushed in the car is probably not only idiotically stupid, but important. The two factors that probably led them to believing they could jump Batgirl.

Steph stands to the side, a good fifteen feet away, looking amused and proud, but there is something in the careful way she is standing, just so that her cape covers her right arm, that lets Tim know that she is injured, and trying to hide it.

He drops down from the rooftop, landing with a only the sound of fabric swishing just beside Steph. She does not look to surprised to see him, which means she probably detected his presence. Tim feels a swell of pride at the evidence that she is improving.

“How bad is it?” he asks, looking on as one of the officers calls it in and two of them load into their car, the one holding the would-be attackers, and drive off.

Steph shifts where she stands, glancing under her cape to check, which means she has been to concerned with the guys and the police to even give it a look yet. “Thin, short, and just a little deep. I’ll put some of those bandaids that look like waterwands on it and then maybe put some gauze around it so nothing gets inside,” she says, looking over at him.

“Waterwands?” Tim asks, curiously, eyeing her as she begins to cross her arms, winces a little, and then thinks better of it. She drops her hands so they hang at her sides, the right one clutching her cape so it stays wrapped around her side.

“You know, those bottle wands you made when you were a kid?” Steph says, leaning her uninjured side on Tim’s shoulder, cautiously. Like she is afraid he will push her off, or maybe think lesser of her for it. Knowing Steph, probably the latter. He knows when she first became Batgirl he was not exactly welcoming, but he is trying to make up for that now.

But Tim has no idea what she is talking about, so he just shakes his head and shifts to the side a little so she will be more comfortable. Steph gives a mock gasp of shock. “I can’t believe you never did that! They were the best. You take two of those big soda bottles, empty them out, of course, and then you fill one with water. Then you put in food colouring and a crap ton of glitter, sometimes add little toys and stuff that can fit through the opening easily, and you screw a little pipe connector on. Then you put the other bottle on the end to seal it, and you have a soda bottle glitter wand,” Steph explains, trying to use hand motions to help explain, but being stunted in that course of action by the fact that she can only use one of her hands for it.

“You actually did that?” Tim asks, frowning, confused. Steph looks almost aghast, apparently having forgotten the police officers nearby, two of which are leaving now, as well, leaving just Detective Gage and his partner. He seems to be hanging back, maybe hoping to see Steph. From what Tim has noticed, Detective Gage seems to be the Jim Gordon to her Batman. But with a lot more sexual tension.

“Of course I did that! I cannot believe you didn’t do that!” she says, exasperated. Tim frowns.

“I think maybe only you did that,” he tells her, raising an eyebrow under his cowl. Stephanie seems to be able to tell and, maturely, sticks her tongue out at him.

“I did not. Red Hood told me he did, too, when we worked that case together. Maybe it was a poor kid thing,” she muses, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge him to contest her. Tim just gives a cough, trying to pretend it was not an aborted chuckle.

“Let me see your arm,” he says, ignoring the way Detective Gage is watching them as he begins to slip back into his car. Steph moves, her cape rustling as she complies. She was right, it really doesn’t look to bad, but it definitely looks like it is going to sting and lot for the next day or so, and for longer, probably, every time she moves her arm. “I have the waterwand bandaids back at my place. It’s closer than yours. Just let me do your arm up and then you should be okay, as long as you lay off patrol for a few days.”

Steph frowns at the last part, and Tim can already tell she is going to be pretty restless for the next week. Suddenly she brightens, and Tim feels the sudden urge to run, because he can see the beginning of a terrible idea - for him, at least - forming in her mind.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she says, and she grins, completely vindictive. “I will stay off patrol if you do, too. And if you actually sleep.”

“I sleep-”

“No, you don’t. Promise?” Steph cuts him off. Tim grimaces, because Gotham really does not need him to take a week off, especially while Batgirl is out of commision. He frowns, because he thought he had finally convinced his family he was actually taking time off and taking care of himself, but clearly not. But he also really did not want Steph to pull her injury.

“Fine,” he agrees, sighing.

“Yes!” Steph says, doing a muted version of her victory dance. She is hindered by the fact that she is having to hold one arm still and against herself. Out of the corner of his eye, Tim sees Detective Gage get in his car, shaking his head and smiling.

“It’s about time for a Batkids sleepover, don’t you think, Doctor Midnite?” she says, reaching for her grapple with her left hand. Tim gives a long suffering sigh, but he smiles as he reaches for his grapple as well.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure you are okay? You had me scared!” Dick says, his hands on Tim’s shoulders. Tim rolls his eyes underneath the domino of Robin’s mask, ignoring the muffled laugh of the Gotham PD officer who was closest, the rest all dealing with an incapacitated Clayface.

“I am fine, Nightwing. I had it handled. Can we go home now? I am completely covered in Clayface,” Tim says, wrinkling his nose. Dick looks a little torn, hovering there for a minute before seeming to decide that Tim will continue living until they get back to the Cave. At the moment, he seems to have completely forgotten that he and Bruce are supposed to be awkwardly avoiding each other, clearly more concerned with getting Tim home safe.

“I guess,” he says, his voice trailing off, a frown clear on his normally-sunny face. With the Clayface situation handled, Tim can feel more of the officers watching them as Nightwing continues to fuss over him.

“I really am fine,” he sighs, batting Dick’s hands away and reaching for his grapple. Dick hovers a moment, indecisive, before he reaches for his own grapple. Tim lets out a breath of relief that they can finally get away from the prying eyes - he can hear the police giggling at him from behind his back - and shoots his grapple into the night.

As he begins to swing away, though, a blush comes up on his cheeks, and he will never, ever admit how nice it is to be fussed over and worried about.

 

* * *

 

“You okay, kid?” Jason asks, and Damian glares up at him, dusting himself off and drawing himself up to his full height. The police are on the street just a story below, handcuffing and arresting the guys they had left ziptied below. Jason knows they have spotted the two of them, but no one seems to be making any moves to arrest him - which would be rather ungrateful of them anyway, seeing as he just took out two drug lords for them - so he decides they can take a breather up here. Damian had been thrown pretty hard, slamming into the wall, and while he keeps his back straight and moves with his usual haughtiness, there is a slight twinge in his movements that makes it clear he is hurting.

“I am fine. To even insinuate that such a buffoon could injure me is-”

“Demon brat, you’re hurt. Now you can be, well, you, about it, or you can let me help,” Jason says, wrinkling his nose. He hates to seem like he cares, but he does worry about his brothers, whether they act like assholes or not. Damian levels him with a cool stare, but Jason just rolls his eyes and approaches Damian anyway. “Even your superior genetics have to get hurt sometime. Now move your goddamn cape and let me see.”

Jason hears an officer below cough, and he actually wonders if the guy is going to try and tell him off for swearing in front of a “child”, but the man apparently thinks better of it. Damian, reluctantly, swishes his cape aside with the most regal air he can muster while wincing. He doesn’t have any surface injury that Jason can see, though there might be a bruise forming beneath the material of the costume. He places his hand lightly on Damian’s spine and gets no reaction, but when he slides it between his shoulder blades Damian flinches away, leveling Jason with a glare.

“It’s probably just a bad bruise, though you might have sprained something-”

“You can’t sprain your spine, idiot,” Damian scoffs, dismissively, while sending a nervous glance to the officers below. It is not hard to tell he is worried about them thinking he is weak, and Jason wonders how the kid even got this far when he is this transparent.

“Shut up, brat. Believe me, you can. Now, Big Bro is personally going to kill me if I just send you back alone and hope for the best. So come on, let’s get you home before someone sees us and actually mistakes me for caring,” Jason says, gruffly, walking toward the nearest edge of the roof that does not have police officers below.

“I am absolutely fine,” Damian says, stiffly. “Besides, what makes you think I want your help?” he asks, his voice dripping with disdain. Jason turns, and in one movement snatches Damian up and shoots his grapple away from the scene.

“Absolutely nothing, but you need it, so shut up, and I will take you as far as the Cave,” Jason says, trying to maintain his aura of uncaring as he practically cuddles the kid in order to keep him still and safe as they swing by the officers. He can practically hear the bitches laughing as they disappear down the street.

 

* * *

 

Cass hovers over Jason, speaking shortly to assure Oracle that they are okay and the explosion missed them. Jason seems worse off than her, rubbing at the side of his temple where a bruise is already blossoming. His body language screams multiple injuries, though all minor, they also seem decidedly painful.

“Are you okay, Hood?” Cass asks, putting a hand on his shoulder and ignoring the way the officer they had just rescued from Riddler’s trap is staring at them.

“Fine, Bat, thanks,” Jason coughs, straightening up with a wince that the officer probably would not have noticed, but Cass definitely did. Cass pauses, blinking behind her mask, surprised.

Jason had just thanked her, with no hint of sarcasm. And for worrying about him, no less.

“You should rest,” Cass tells him, picking her way around the debris of the elaborate trap to help the officer stand.

“I promise, I’m fi-”

Cass turns, and she does not need to remove the mask to give Jason the stare she fixes him with. In turn, he does not have to remove the mask to make it obvious that the blood just drained from his face.

“Alright, fine, I will take a few days off. Happy?”

“Leave. Rest. I will handle things here,” Cass says, turning to grip the officer’s arm and pull him to his feet.

“But Baaaat-”

“Leave, or I will make sure you need more than a few days in order to heal,” Cass says, her voice unwavering, as always.

Jason grumbles, scuffing one foot along the floor and then wincing in turn, but he does not argue. He knows far better than to mess with Cassandra when she threatens bodily harm. She is, unarguably, the most deadly killer of all of them, even without a single weapon in her hand. As he walks by, she smirks a little.

 

* * *

 

It was some elaborate plot by the Penguin that involved mind-controlling birds. Honestly, it was rather pathetic, but it had taken almost all of them to wrestle all the birds away as they dived down on the citizens gathered for the harvest festival. When they have finally managed to capture Penguin and shut off the machine, almost all of them are covered in scratches from the birds' tiny claws.

The Gotham PD happily takes Penguin off their hands, glancing at the slightly-battered and extremely exasperated family of Bats.

“If I still killed people, we wouldn’t have these problems,” Jason grumbles as they settle on the roofs above the festival, Tim wrapping a bandage around his arm so he will not bleed out on his way home and it won’t get infected from rubbing up against his ripped up jacket.

“If Cobblepot wasn’t so stupid, we wouldn’t have these problem. What did he possibly hope to accomplish with this? Mild annoyance?” Damian complains, shifting constantly as Steph tries to wrap up his hand so it will not meet the same possible fate inside his tattered glove as Jason’s arm would inside his jacket.

“He’s kind of insane. I’m not sure any of his plans have a point,” Tim adds, rolling his eyes and smacking Jason lightly as he tries to pull away. Jason whines, but Tim doesn’t even pause in wrapping the bandages.

“All of you are going to ruin my reputation,” Jason gripes, glancing down at the large crowd milling below, along with several of the PD officers that are still hanging around, not quite done cleaning up.

“What are family for?” Steph says, happily, leaning over to flick the back of his head. Jason begins to stand, trying to go over to get at her, but Tim keeps a death grip on his arm, hauling him back to the ground. A moment later, Cass comes to sit beside him.

“Stay,” she says, simply, and her and Tim exchange a small grin while Jason mumbles death threats under his breath, but obeys. Even Bruce smiles a little, watching Jason act like a child.


End file.
